Wednesday, March 22, 2017

“And they all lived happily ever
after” is a sentence that Flannery O’Connor wouldn’t be caught dead writing. Instead,
she was caught dead writing Everything
That Rises Must Converge*, so it was published posthumously. My three-part O’Connor
selection consists of Wise Blood (her
first novel, 1952), The Violent Bear It
Away (novel, 1960), and Everything
that Rises Must Converge (collection of short stories, 1965). I started
with her first novel and moved on to her last stories in order to track her
trajectory as a writer; then, I circled back to her 1960 novel. Here, I’ll give
a brief summary of each book and aggregate the ratings. Lots of sophisticated
mathematics occurring on this site.

Wise
Blood is one of those first novels that you know is a first novel. Some
authors thrive on subtlety, which I assume comes with experience. In this case, O’Connor thrives on hitting you in the face with an idea over and over again.
The blood motif referenced in the title points to several—mostly religious—conclusions.
The notion that blood can possess the quality of wisdom suggests that a person
can have an innate sense of guidance that renders spiritual guidance
irrelevant. Additionally, the Christian belief that Jesus redeemed humanity
through the blood He shed contrasts with some of O’Connor’s characters’
insistence that salvation isn’t necessary in that their own blood sets them
free. Lastly, because blood is associated with inheritance, O’Connor plays on the
idea of psychological lineage to emphasize inevitability: some tendencies run
through our blood that can’t be eradicated.
Because O’Connor’s devout Catholicism imbues the majority of her work, these
bloody implications remind us that no character is safe from the author’s need
to show a reckoning with Christ. Although it is impressive that Wise Blood extends from her Master’s
thesis at the University of Iowa, I can’t appreciate the story. The characters’
actions seem consistently non-sensible. I know that religion can sometimes make
people do irrational things, but I don’t want to read about a series of bizarre
events that don’t get due explanations. Either develop your characters more or
create less wacky scenarios. Not into it... Wise
Blood receives 1 out of 5 camel humps.

The
Violent Bear It Away evinces O’Connor’s growth as a writer. The novel
discusses similar themes while telling a more sophisticated, interesting story.
In it, a fanatically religious uncle indoctrinates his orphaned nephew. After
the uncle’s death, the boy must come to terms with his own faith (or lack
thereof) and carve his own path outside of the influence of an overbearing
relative. Again, there’s a darkness to the plot, and no character comes out
unscathed. We get to watch the characters wrestle with their inner demons and
reconcile their insecurities with the irresistible draw of a passionate religiosity
than runs in the fam. The downside? Her transitions between past and present
are too abrupt and they result in reader-whiplash. I also seriously question
the practical aspects of some of the forest fires scenes. As a whole, The Violent Bear It Away receives
3 out of 5 camel humps.

Everything
that Rises Must Converge stands out well above the rest. Each of the nine
short stories shows a character confronted with their own mortality, which is
perhaps reflective of O’Connor’s own battle with lupus at the time of writing. She
wields incisive prose, a dash of wit, and tragic endings as usual; but
I believe that this triple threat is better packaged in a short story. She
trades tediousness for tension—every interaction is charged with some sort of
conflict (generational gap, racial prejudice, intellect disparity, religious
quarrel, etc.). Her characters realize that they’re shitty people, but the insight
comes too late. I’m very impressed with this collection, and I would re-read
and recommend it to others as an introduction to O’Connor’s work; therefore, Everything that Rises Must Converge receives
5 out of 5 camel humps.

Overall, this three-book edition
was good bang for the buck, but only parts were worth a read. As promised, the
average score is 3 out of 5 camel humps. Be selective with your book of
choice.

*O'Connor, Flannery. Three by Flannery O'Connor: Wise Blood, The Violent Bear It Away, Everything that Rises Must Converge. New York: Signet, 1986. Print.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Never have
I ever been so thankful for Voltaire than when my boyfriend and I came
dangerously close to starving in an area of the world that’s basically
Antarctica. Yes, that’s a real sentence.

Recently, we went on a three-day backpacking
trip through Patagonia. We had withdrawn what we assumed was a generous amount
of Chilean pesos for the trip, because various legs only accept cash, and we knew
there wouldn’t be an ATM chillin on one of the glaciers out in the middle of nowhere.
Unfortunately, some expenses that we thought we had already paid for actually
needed settling, some transportation that we’d been told could be charged by
card actually needed cash, and some rates were more expensive than we had
anticipated. Really, we’re noobs. After we got to the end of the earth via
three planes and three buses, we didn’t have enough pesos for both of us to
take the necessary ferry that would finally shuttle us to the start of our
trek. More troubling was the fact that I had only packed enough food to have
meager snacks on the trail (I planned on eating dinner at the hostels along the
way). Even if we could finagle our way on the ferry, if the hostels pulled the
stunt that everyone else had pulled and didn’t accept credit cards, I foresaw
many hangry nights and weak attempts at backpacking uphill. I clutched to a
word that means the same in English and in Spanish: no no no no no.

Luckily—before I completely lost my
shit amidst a multicultural group of mostly non-English speakers—a nice
American couple agreed to trade USD for pesos and the hostels agreed to take
our Visa.

Truthfully, I was very grumpy in
the hour or so that I envisioned having to live three physically strenuous days
off of one questionably packaged Chilean sausage and a bag of raisins; however,
there were brief moments where I found solace in Candide*,
Voltaire’s 1759 satirical novella that I had finished the day before. Candide is like The Odyssey, in that a man named Candide travels a long, fraught
journey to reunite with his true love, Cunégonde. Unlike Homer, we know a great
deal about Voltaire, especially how his philosophical and religious views
influenced his work.

Candide
was written in response to a philosophy of optimism espoused by Voltaire’s
contemporary, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Leibniz believed that, because God is
omniscient, omnibenevolent, and omnipotent, the world that we live in is necessarily optimal, or the best of all possible worlds. The character Candide inherits
this worldview from his mentor, Professor Pangloss; however, this belief is
continually challenged as Candide faces trial after trial. He’s a good man with
simple aspirations, and he can’t seem to catch a break. Surely his experiences
are not the best that they could possibly be? Perhaps Pangloss deludes himself
with a false optimism that’s in reality “the madness of maintaining that
everything is right when it is wrong” (Voltaire, 49)?

I’m a sucker for dry humor and
Voltaire knows how to dish it out. He renders Candide’s misfortunes as
larger-than-life, and he describes catastrophic events in a deadpan, dark way,
similar to that of Catch-22, the GOAT of 20th century
literature. In the end, Voltaire doesn’t provide us a clear-cut answer key on
how to endure hardships. Instead, he offers an enigmatic practical solution:
avoid idleness and work without disputing. This notion reminds me of Albert Camus’suggestion that one must accept the absurdity
of existence and actively live in spite of it. Keep on keepin’ on.

In Patagonia, as I considered my
helplessness and yearned for Taco Bell back home, I thought of Candide’s
tribulations and his insistence on perseverance. He hoped that his plights
would eventually resolve, but because nothing is guaranteed and things don’t
always work out for the best, he swallowed the bitter pill of life and accepted
his less than gratifying hand. Mad props to Candide and medium props to myself
for not publicly wailing. Voltaire, in his infinite critical wisdom, receives 5
out of 5 camel humps for Candide.

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Lyndsay West

About Me

I’m a 25 year old lover of reading and writing. I was born and raised in Dallas, Texas, and I graduated from the University of Virginia in 2013. Currently, I live in New York City making my writing mark on the world via freelance work. Other interests include religious studies, philosophy, psychology, dancing, and live music.

Follow my twitter: @humpdayhardback

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